artemus leto | four | cb fin

"Get the fuck out of my room, Arty."

Perdita never cared much for the superfluous conversations you seemed to have a knack for. Conversations about the stars and the moon and trees falling in the wilderness without any noise-- conversations that made you think: that was where you found your home.

"You never want to talk to me, Peri."
("You're right, I don't. Go bug Calypso.")

You march proudly down the stairs, raven haired, fresh faced. They said you'd grow up to be handsome some day, instead your genetics settled on cute. You don't stop at Calypso's room. (She probably isn't there, anyway.) Instead, you find yourself standing outside of the house, spear in hand, legs in water. You name the first fish you skewer Perdita.

"You should have shown me some respect," you whisper harshly. These quiet delights are nothing more, though. You're far too spineless to ever cause your sister any real harm. So you take it out on the fish, an odd and disturbing habit that you've decided is best to keep hidden from others.

To them, you're perfectly normal Artemus Leto, bringing home dinner.

But what a person does not know could, in fact, kill them.

HE AND CALYPSO NEED TO STAB THINGS TOGETHER
GOD BLESS